Eroding Time
by MyVeryWildImagination
Summary: "He doesn't want a second chance, and she won't give it to him. Their contempt for each other curls around them, eroding their souls until she is trapped by her bitterness and forced to watch as he drowns in it. Time alone will soften or strengthen the feud of hate between the Mudblood and the Snake."


Eroding Time

"He doesn't want a second chance, and she won't give it to him. Their contempt for each other curls around them, eroding their souls until she is trapped by her bitterness and forced to watch as he drowns in it. Time alone will soften or strengthen the feud of hate between the Mudblood and the Snake." –Summary

It takes _time_ for someone to break down and crumble. It takes _time_ for someone to crack. But, if you use _time_ wisely, you'll spare yourself from having to go through the cycle again. –MyVeryWildImagination

…The dusty pages of a book opened as wind rattled and shook the abandoned study. Two figures, one shorter, one taller, gently touched the book, slowly picking it up to glance at the title. The taller one smiled mysteriously, then to softly put the book back in place, careful to leave no traces. The two exited as quickly as they had arrived, and the wind grew louder, stronger and gloomier as it flipped the pages of the book, landing on the very first page. And there, my dear readers, is where the story begins...

It was a gloomy morning. Rain pitter-pattered down the large, golden window and etched itself on the windowsill, forming a delicate pattern of tiny raindrops. Dark, foreboding clouds loomed overhead, blocking out the sunlight, and inside, Hermione Granger, aged 20, sat alone in her office, her mood being affected by the endless gloom outside. Her cup of half-empty tea perched cold and forgotten on the edge of her desk. She had loads of work to do, especially now, and she had to force her stressed mind to slog through things as she struggled to keep from drowning under the stacks of work towering around her.

She shook her head and took an absentminded sip of her cold tea. She had been appointed the leader of the Department Of Magical Law Enforcement, and she knew she should like her job. It played on her intelligence and her desire to help those hurt by the war. Yet sometimes...like now, with the rain and work closing in around her, she selfishly wished to be free of her cramped office.

Hermione glanced up tiredly and folded her hands in her lap as a bubbly intern entered her office and dumped another large stack of papers onto Hermione's desk.

"Oopmh! Here you are," the young woman said, rubbing her sore arms. She noticed Hermione's forlorn cup of tea and frowned slightly. "Would you like me to make you a fresh cuppa, Miss Granger?" she asked, taking the mug.

Hermione opened her mouth to say, 'no, thank you,' but then shut it and managed a smile. "Thank you, Bella. More tea would be perfect."

The woman beamed and exited, her much-too-high-heels clumping loudly on the wood floor, leaving a small scratch much to Hermione's dismay, as she hated scratches, bumps, or dents of any sort on her polished wood floor. She pursed her lips as the intern closed the door and put her head on her desk beside the new pile of paper. She was so on edge of late that the slightest disturbance in her routine summoned a headache and she was not the only one who was ready to explode.

Everyone was on edge, especially now, with the news of the death eaters' new level of twisted boldness. They had attacked a Muggle community, and murdered everyone, just for fun. Even the elderly, with wrinkled faces and throaty cries for mercy, and the children with grief-stricken faces streaked with tears. Then they captured several aurors and tortured them before discarding them into the sewers where they were found days later, their bloated faces twisted in agony. Wizards were losing confidence in the Ministry of Magic's ability to control the rampages.

While Voldemort might be gone, not all of his loyal death eaters were. In fact, only a small number of them had been sniffed out, thanks to Harry- now the Head of the Auror Department- and his aurors. Hermione was proud of her friend for continuing to fight against the dark forces. She couldn't have stomached it. Even now twisted nightmares of what had happened while Hogwarts burned filled her tortured mind. The screams were the worst.

Just as she closed her eyes, her door opened with a loud 'SLAM' and Harry, his tie askew and his hair sticking out in all angles, slipped in her room.  
"I never would have pegged you as one of those slackers that slept in the office, Hermione!" Harry grinned crookedly, not bothering to fix his appearance. She strained a smile at him, appreciating his attempt to cheer her with a joke. "I wasn't sleeping."

He shifted from foot to foot and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Do you have a moment, Hermione? I need to talk about something important."

"Is there anything I need to look at?" she asked, rifling hurriedly through a stack of paper. "Is it that report you wanted? I have it here somewhere-"

Harry's happy expression immediately morphed into one of exhaustion; lines of worry on his handsome face.  
"No, it's...not that, Hermione."

"What's wrong, Harry?" She looked up sharply, alarm seeping through her skin. "Has something happened?" ...Something with Voldemort?

"Something has happened, but not what you think," he spoke solemnly, and hesitantly took her hand. "I need you to do something for me...something that you won't want to do. I asked Ron for help, but he's still off in Prague, helping the wizards there, and I don't trust anyone else. Will you promise to help me?"

Hermione bit her lip. "-I don't know, Harry-"

"Please, just promise me you'll listen to what I have to say and do it." Harry's green eyes bore into hers, a begging emotion etched on his face.

Hermione's brows furrowed in worried suspicion, but she nodded slowly. "I promise. Now tell me what's wrong."

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. He touched the faded scar on his forehead, an action he only did when he was nervous, scared or frightened.

"Hermione, I need you to find, and kill Draco Malfoy..." His voice wavered slightly as he continued with the rest of his sentence. "...as soon as possible."

Silence filled the office.

"What?" Hermione choked on the word, and it came out so quietly she wasn't sure Harry had heard her. Draco's pale, cruel face swam in her mind. She had last seen him when he'd left her to be tortured by Bellatrix. Left her to die. His steel gray eyes pinned her in place, bringing back all the hate and worthlessness she'd felt whenever she was near him. She shuddered and gulped, barely able to comprehend the words coming out of Harry's mouth. "You want me to...kill Draco?"

Harry winced, as if in pain. "Please don't look at me like that, Hermione- you promised."

"No," she whispered. Her voice grew louder and panicked and she stared at Harry like she didn't know him. "Harry- you can't possibly ask that of me." She envisioned dark blood staining her hands and she snatched them away from Harry's grasp. "He's not deserving of… of that."

Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair. "He's suspected of trying gather together all the death eaters in an attempt to resurrect Voldemort. He's also murdered a fair amount of muggles and committed numerous crimes."

"Do you have proof?" she was nearly shrieking. The world seemed to be spinning.

Harry grimaced; his eyes were rimmed red with dark bags hanging underneath them. He held up a newspaper article that showed Draco, dull gray eyes filled with a lustful sinister glee; point his wand at a quivering young woman. She opened her mouth as if to scream, and then there was a burst of light and she crumpled to the ground, eyes still open in terror.

Hermione's blood chilled and she raised a trembling hand to her mouth. A million emotions swirled inside her. Horror, instinctive hatred, fear, and a kind of betrayal. She had experienced first-hand Draco's cruel teasing, but she had not believed him capable of killing innocent people. She hadn't wanted to believe it. Nausea churned in her gut, spiralling downwards like the flush of a toilet. But she did believe it. Oh, how she believed it. A fire that had lain dormant for many months sprang to life in her chest and her pale cheeks flared with anger.

"How could he?" she hissed, more to herself than to Harry.

Harry placed both hands on her desk and leaned toward her. "We've tracked down his whereabouts. We just need someone to go in after him." His expression softened. "Hermione...you can bring him to us if…"

If you're unable to kill him yourself.

Hermione hated Harry for making her promise something to this effect. How could he? How dare he? And yet...if Draco really was out there destroying lives, he had to be stopped. Oh, Merlin, why had Harry decided she was the one to end the Slytherin's life?

"Harry..please..leave me. I need to think things through." She felt sick. Sick that Harry was forcing her into this. Sick at what Draco had done. Sick that a dark part of her craved to see him suffer in agony as he was brought down by a rain of her curses.

"Hermione, I-I'm sorry," Harry mumbled, looking like a chastised child; he hurried out of the room. When he was gone, Hermione's head dropped on the oak desk and she let out a scream of frustration. All this time she had believed that some good lay in Malfoy. Now that belief had been smashed and smeared across her heart like a stain. He was just as evil as Voldemort had been, killing innocent people for his own gain and she hated him for it. A desire to eradicate the boy who had caused her so much pain welled in her that she gave into it fully. Her eyes squeezed shut and she let out a shuddering breath. Outside her window, thunder rumbled and the sky cried along with her.

* * *

~Enjoy

Dedicated to: A Pencil In Her Hand.


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